


The Ice Maiden

by islandpooka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Romance, The Mourning Madam's Once Upon A Time Dramione Fairy Tale Fest, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 12:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandpooka/pseuds/islandpooka
Summary: Think of a snowier, feminine Pinocchio meets Cinderella story.  A mysterious witch no one knows attracts the attentions of a devil-may-care aristocrat.





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Hermione Granger was not like other witches. 

Most witches in her village were born to magical parents and taught to control their magic as it manifested within them. This was true of all magical children. 

All that is, except Hermione Granger.

Helena and Wilhelm Granger could not have children, despite their best efforts. They lived in a simple stone cottage on the edge of a small wizarding village near Wiltshire with only their kneazle-cat to keep them company. For decades they had tried to have a child, but as they grew older they realized they would have to take a different path. 

A path had appeared by chance.

The Grangers were not a part of the Sacred Twenty Eight, therefore Wilhelm had been forced to fight his way into even the simplest of careers. Wilhelm had a simple life as a garden gnomer and Helena kept the house, but the families for whom Wilhelm worked came from old magic and knew of the darker arts that had slowly been banned from common use. It was whilst he was plucking gnomes from beneath a library window that Wilhelm had heard Thoros Nott speak of the magic that had given him and Helena hope.

“Theo, you cannot continue in this manner! You need a wife. I’m half tempted to spell you one, or at least charm you a snow mistress. Get some fire in your gut so you’ll leave this blasted arithmancy behind and get yourself a woman and an heir!”

Wilhelm had thought it an empty threat, but the book had flown through the plate glass window and into the garden, nearly knocking him in the head. It had fallen open to the charm, depicting a pale maiden prancing about.

The magic was of the oldest kind: nature magic that could go horribly awry should it be attempted on any day outside the equinoxes and solstices. Wilhelm told Helena of his plan in late August, and they decided to try upon the Autumn Equinox, after the first snow. The Winter Solstice might have been more powerful and given them more time to practise, but Helena did not wish to wait. She had waited too long for a child to wait even a second longer than necessary.

~*~*~*~*~

The first snow of the year was late, but heavy. The wind cut through the moor like a blade of ice on that Autumnal Equinox morning. All sound was muted, as though the world were wrapped in cotton. All sound, but for the crunch of the fresh snow beneath the boots of the childless couple. The wind sliced through their warm garments, surpassing the wool as though it were linen. It chilled them to the bone. Helena gripped the satchel they had packed with clothes and a wand her mother had left behind when she died, in hopes of it going to a grandchild. 

Through that bitterly cold morning, the Grangers trudged until they reached a clearing in the woods. The clearing was far from the village, guaranteeing the privacy needed to cast the spell. They risked severe punishment, should they be caught. Wizarding children were considered a gift, not a right. Fertility magic was strictly forbidden. Should their endeavour be discovered, both Wilhelm and Helena would be, at best, banished. At worse, they would be imprisoned and sentenced to death. 

Together, silently, they created a young woman out of the snow. They built her with care, with all the love they would have given their real child. The result was a beautiful little girl, more beautiful than any true witch. 

Together, Wilhelm and Helena raised their wands and began chanting. It was in Russian, the pronunciations far different from the usual Latin spells. They stumbled over some words, but continued on, determined. 

Slowly, slowly, the little snow maiden came alive. Her pebble eyes became chocolate orbs, shining bright. Thick, curly brown locks appeared through the snow as the icy body became inhumanly pale skin. Her snow robes became rich velvet in deep red and little leather booties poked from beneath her hems..

The only sign that she was not a real girl was her snow pale skin, missing the rosy kiss of blood beneath it.

Helena burst into tears at the sight of the young woman and she collapsed to her knees in the snow.

Wilhelm walked up to the snow maiden and gingerly placed his hands upon her shoulders. When she did not melt beneath his palms, he whooped loudly and embraced the young lady whom he had brought to life. 

Thus Hermione was brought into the world. 

She appeared to be fully grown, a young woman of perhaps 18, and when she was handed her grandmother’s wand, it glowed in recognition of its new mistress. Hermione knew her parents immediately and returned their hugs quickly before playing with the wand a bit more. She made snow swirl and a rabbit float, casting as though she were one with the wand.

Helena and Wilhelm ushered her through the snow to the cabin, casting furtive glances lest someone should see their illicitly created child.


	2. Chapter One - Draco Malfoy Comes to Hogsmeade

Chapter One:

“Mother, there is someone here!” 

Hermione was reading near the front window, curled in a seat with no blanket despite her distance from the hearth. She had been with her family for two days and was reading everything she could on magical theory. Already, she had finished three books on the subject and her family’s library offered little more. 

“I’ll get it, lovey,” Helena said, making her way towards the door. 

A young man, about Hermione’s age, stood with his hand raised to knock once more. The disheveled mess of black hair was sprinkled with snow, which he shook away when Helena glanced upwards. 

“G’morning, Mrs. Granger,” he said, “I was looking for your husband. I was to work with him tomorrow.”

“He’s out,” Helena said, trying to shield Hermione from view.

“No he’s not,” Hermioned retorted, “He’s in the garden.”

As she stepped into view, his eyes widened. 

“You are?” Hermione asked.

“Potter,” he said, “Harry Potter.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she curtsied. Helena had told her that well-bred ladies curtsied when meeting people of higher birth and, with the Grangers so low in society, nearly everyone in the village was of higher birth.

Harry nodded in lieu of a bow, not wanting to lose her from his sight. She was absolutely enchanting. Her fair skin nearly glowed in the soft autumn sun, her face framed with heavy chocolate curls. The pair of whisky eyes bore through him and he was mesmerized. 

~*~*~*~*~

The village of Hogsmeade was on the smaller side, but was well kept. The agricultural smells of cow dung and pig shit were noticeably absent, replaced with wood smoke and the crisp scent of autumn. 

Draco Malfoy rode through town leisurely, his horse clopping down the main street. A woman sweeping her stoop stared, but he did not acknowledge her. He was focused on his task. He needed to find a town in which to live, a home in which to sleep, and a friend to introduce him to the local society. 

His father, Lucius Malfoy, had decided it was time for his heir to spread his wings and experience life before settling down with a wife to make an heir and a spare. Many wizards chose to migrate to more populous areas like London or Edinburgh, but Draco had no such desire. He wanted to understand the country better as that would be his duty when he took over the title from his father. 

That was not to say that Draco Malfoy had no intentions of sowing wild oats. He had been given carte blanche to do as he wished with the assurance that his father would not step in unless he became embroiled in a scandal. 

The Malfoys did not allow scandals.

Draco had been the dutiful son: learning decorum from his father from before he could remember, attending Hogwarts School of Wizardry, becoming both a prefect and head boy whilst at school and earning top marks on every exam, and attending society events with his mother to get his name and availability known.

For now, Draco would enjoy his freedom. Once a house was settled, he would find a willing witch to warm his bed, and hone the skills that would someday please his wife. 

There was a woman with midnight curls and a delightful figure walking with a parasol from her wand ahead, her skirts hugging her full hips. She glanced over her shoulder and caught Draco’s eye. She smiled like a vixen and glanced away, acting the part of the virtuous maiden. Her acting was proved false by the increased sway of her walk, causing an uncomfortable tightening of Draco’s britches.

Yes, he thought, Hogsmeade will suit well.

Ahead, Draco saw a business office and called a boy to hold his horse.

First, the house. Then, the black haired siren.

~*~*~*~*~

Despite Helena’s uncertainty, Harry and Hermione became fast friends. She would read to him and he would tell her stories of the village. It was less than a week before Hermione was begging her parents to let her see Hogsmeade.

“Harry goes all the time!” She cried.

“Harry is well known and a lad,” Wilhelm said, trying and failing to keep his daughter’s tears at bay.

“I’m tired of this cottage. I love you and Mama, but I need to explore! I need to see things beyond the fence of our garden, Papa.”

“You have the woods! And the garden is not so very bad to look at,” Helena tried.

“I want to meet people! I want to try new things and see what Harry sees.”

“I knew that Harry Potter would be a problem,” Helena spat.

“He is not the problem, Mama! You are! I am tired of being kept in a cage. I am not an owl!”

Hermione had fire, despite her icy origins. Her father thought that perhaps he had put a bit too much of his own passionate nature into the girl. It was unfortunate, but he could understand her frustrations. She was a girl grown, despite having only existed for a mere seven days. 

“We will let you go during Yule,” Wilhelm said.

“What?” Both women asked, surprised.

“The village will be full of people from the surrounding areas. You will be less likely to standout as a stranger if you go to town on its busiest day.”

Helena looked indignant; Hermione, elated.

“Thank you, Papa!” she cried, hugging him briefly before running to the garden to celebrate in the snow.

“She would have gone with or without us,” Wilhelm told Helena, who looked very cross. “This gives us a few months to dissuade her.”

Helena nodded her head jerkily, disagreeing with her husband for giving the child hope. Hermione was fragile. She would not be safe in the village, Helena was certain of it in her gut.

~*~*~*~*~

The sandstone townhouse suited Draco nicely. It had come fully furnished with two house elves to clean and cook. Currently, Draco was enjoying a glass of Ogden’s finest in a plush velvet armchair near the roaring fire. The flames danced in front of the black marble of the fireplace, reminding Draco of Hell. 

If this was Hell, Draco was glad to be there. He had been living in the village for nearly a week and already the society mamas had begun bringing their daughters to meet him. Most were the perfect Pureblooded girls, wearing virginal white and not making eye contact. 

Others, however, were more ambiguous in their morality. Astoria Greengrass, for instance.

Her mother, Elispeth, had brought Astoria and Daphne to his home with a lemon cake to welcome him to the neighborhood. Daphne was exactly what Draco expected from a Sacred Twenty Eight daughter: eyes downcast, dress modest, smile small. 

Astoria, despite being dressed almost identically to her sister, made eye contact whenever her mother wasn’t looking and bit her bee stung lips so frequently that Draco was certain they would never fade from red. She confirmed his initial impression of her as a black haired siren with every moment she spent in his home. 

“Have you planned any sort of society gathering, Mister Malfoy?” Elispeth Greengrass asked him, distracting Draco from her daughter’s decidedly seductive glances. 

“Not as of yet, though with all of the lovely ladies in this village, I may very well have to. I do believe a Yule Ball would be the very thing. My father wants me to find a wife, and what better way than to host a ball and meet all the eligible young women in town?”

“Lovely!” Regina said, a smug smile briefly pulling up the corner of her mouth. “I would ask that you save a dance for each of my girls.”

“But, of course,” Draco said, already becoming bored with the society talk and trying to imagine how to get Astoria into his home earlier than Yule. “Perhaps I will throw a small dinner party before then. To get an introduction to the society matrons. Would you be able to assist in such a thing?”

Regina fluttered her fan and assured him that she would. They set the date for two weeks hence and returned to their home. 

Draco was going to like it in Hogsmeade. He was certain of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading my first ever fest piece! Comments are always appreciated. This has not been beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

The dinner at Malfoy Manor, as the families in town had taken to calling his home, was quite the event. A string quartet played in the solar whilst drinks were served. 

Draco, ever the well-bred host, chatted amicably with each of the society mothers and matrons. He charmed them all with his pithy comments and dry humor. Their eyes sparkled with humor as he complimented their beauty and wit. He had the entire upper class of this hamlet wrapped around his pinky before the first course was served. 

Dinner was extravagant. Duck confit, pork tenderloin, filet mignon, roasted potatoes with onions, yorkshire puddings, asparagus with hollandaise, cauliflower with bechamel: it was quite a feast for the “small dinner” he had invited his guests to. 

Elispeth Greengrass was in attendance with her daughters and husband, Reginald. Lady and Lord Parkinson had come with their daughter, Thoros Nott had attended with his son, and the Goyles and Crabbes sat quietly, not quite part of the upper crust but high enough to be welcome at the table. 

As dinner came to a close, Draco invited the ladies to move on to the parlor for whist and sherry whilst the men enjoyed their port.

“Do you gamble, Malfoy?” Reginald asked, his face already red from wine.

“Only when I know I can win,” Draco said, cooly.

The rest of the wizards around the table chuckled. 

“What do you say we play a few hands then?”

“Very well, Reginald. But remember, I only play to win.”

Draco led all of the men to his card table and the games began. 

~*~*~*~*~

Three hours later, the women began to titter about the location of their menfolk. Boisterous laughter came from a room down the hall, followed by angry shouting. Elispeth left her daughters with the Parkinson girl and walked to the door behind which the men seemed to be hiding.

“You’re off your rocker, Malfoy! That was a bastard move and you know it!”

Looking through a crack in the door, she saw her husband, puce faced and sputtering with anger.

“No, I suggested collateral for your debt, you agreed, and you lost.”

“You can’t seriously expect to collect!”

“Oh, I do. And I will. I expect her on the morrow.”

Reginald pushed away from the table violently and charged towards the door like a bull. Elispeth stepped away as he barged through and followed him down the hall, struggling to keep up in her heels.

“Reggie, what’s happened? What is Mister Malfoy collecting?”

Reg turned to her, looking shocked and almost confused.

“Astoria,” he choked out. “He’s taking Astoria.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Another romance?” Harry whinged, interrupting Hermione’s story. 

“I enjoy them!” She said indignantly. 

“Only because you haven’t had a romance,” Harry harrumphed.

“And all the better that you haven’t!” Helena said, walking into the kitchen. “It’s freezing in here, you two. Why don’t you add a bit more wood to the fire?”

“I’m quite comfortable,” Hermione assured her mother.

“I’m bloody freezing,” Harry muttered.

Despite his grumbling, Hermione knew that Harry would rather be here than anywhere else. He lived with his aunt and uncle, who sounded positively awful. He enjoyed adventure stories so as to imagine a life away from them, where he was a hero. She enjoyed romances for the same reason. Harry was wonderful, but he was a friend and nothing more. She wanted to experience the racing heart, fluttering stomach, breathlessness that came with love. She wanted desire. 

And she certainly wasn’t going to find that in her parents’ cabin. 

Wilhelm had a small calendar on which he kept his schedule for the week. Hermione watched it, counting down the days until Yule when she would be able to see the village. She had trouble imagining what it would be like, picturing a cluster of homes like the one she lived in. Harry assured her that the houses in the village were nothing like the cabin, but taller and longer and wider. They were so close to other houses that sometimes they touched. Harry tried to explain fountains and chandeliers to her, but she had difficulty fathoming such things. 

The thought of seeing the village obsessed her. She felt as though fate needed her there. What fate needed her for, however, was a mystery to her. 

When Harry was with her father and working, Hermione had begun to learn to sew. Her mother could measure, cut, and sew a dress with a few quick flicks of her wand. She had made Hermione enough plain, muslin day dresses to keep her clothed easily, with an extra to keep nice for events. 

She had read stories of gowns worn to Yule Balls and wanted something similar. She begged and cajoled until her mother gave her the fabric she had set aside for the wished-for-daughter’s trusseau. It was a beautiful pale blue satin which her mother warned her would be too lightweight for a winter outing. Hermione didn’t mind the cold and practiced her sewing spells on scraps of fabric before finally beginning work on her gown.

~*~*~*~*~

Astoria Greengrass may have played the part of the distraught daughter, maintaining poise whilst allowing a quivering lip to reveal her devastation at her fate, but inside she rejoiced. She could never let anyone know her happiness with her father’s idiotic ways, it wouldn’t reflect well on her. Witches in this day and age were to be virginial, perhaps even frigid. Loose women did not catch husbands, they caught benefactors and were cast into the streets once their beauty faded. 

When it came to playing the long game, Astoria was queen. She had once tried, and failed, to trap a man into marriage. She had even given him her invaluable maidenhead as he assured her of his parents’ agreement to their nuptials. Instead, Thoros Nott had told his son that he would marry a woman with a steadiness that he did not see in Astoria. Thoros Nott did not find naive, silly girls endearing. 

From then on, Astoria Greengrass was no longer naive, nor silly. She played men like a master potioneer played with dragon’s blood: with purpose, determination, and complete understanding of the results. 

Draco Malfoy may have taken her under his roof, but he had sworn the other men at the poker table to secrecy, requiring them to swear upon their magic. No one in the village knew of Astoria’s residency in Malfoy Manor. She was able to visit her family, always leaving by the servants’ entrance, fully cloaked. Draco Malfoy did not want to destroy her reputation, merely embarrass her father and teach him an important lesson. 

This gave Astoria all that she needed to know about the mysterious Malfoy. He was honorable, he had no intentions of ruining her, and he was exactly what she wanted. 

His actions may have been gallant, but he was still a man, and men could be seduced. If she were to seduce him and bear his child, he would have to marry her. There was no other way around it. Astoria had spent her days in the Manor doing research and discovered a sheaf of letters from Lord Malfoy, applauding his son on maintaining decorum and keeping the Malfoy reputation spotless. Lord Malfoy would not allow his son to impregnate a daughter of the aristocracy and leave her. 

It was a perfect plan.

Now, she simply had to seduce the man.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco Malfoy was in his bedroom reading over the newest potion book his godfather had sent him when a light knock at his door roused him from the newest use of lacewing flies. 

“Yes?” He said, ready to receive word of a letter from his father from one of the house elves.

“Draco.”

Astoria slithered around the door, a pale pink satin nightgown twining around her legs as she walked. 

“Astoria.” He wasn’t surprised. Not in the least. If anything, he was surprised that it had taken her a week to make her way to his bedroom. 

She said nothing, but slid the gown from her shoulders so that it fluttered to the floor.

Draco maintained the silence and brought her to the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Yule came slowly, at least in Hermione Granger’s opinion. She had finished a periwinkle and lavender dress of satin and stared at it daily, dreaming of the day she could wear it into the village. 

Harry had visited the day before to tell her the news of the villagers, as he did regularly. 

“The new bloke, Draco Malfoy, is apparently planning a ball for Yule. Word around the pubs is that he wants to find a bride. George Weasley bet a knut that it would be Pansy Parkinson,”

“The pug-nosed girl?” Hermione asked.

Harry chuckled, “That was my reaction. Fred, Ron, and I all agree it’s likely one of the Greengrass sisters. They’ve apparently been kept in the house for the last month or so. Their mama generally has them out visiting bachelors twice per week. Now? Nothing.”

“Curious,” Hermione agreed. “Perhaps they are sick?”

“Could be,” Harry said. “I saw their father, Reginald. Reggie. Man looked like a ghost, and drinking like a grindylow over in the Hog’s Head. A bit lower brow than his usual drinking locals.”

“I can’t wait to see the town,” Hermione sighed.

“One week,” Harry said, bumping her shoulder with his own. “You’ll survive ‘til then. There will be a big festival during the day, then everyone clears out around suppertime when the moon rises so they can enjoy the warmth in the ballrooms instead of the frigid night air. 

“I like the cold,” Hermione said, glancing out the window.

“I’ve noticed,” Harry said, scooting closer to the fire. “It’s practically an icebox in here.”

Hermione giggled.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been a month since luring Draco Malfoy into her bed. Astoria wasn’t terribly fond of his visits, he was rough and impersonal and never whispered words of adoration or love after. He barely even undressed. It was almost clinical. Despite the frequency of his visits, her monthly courses had still arrived. She was infuriated. All she needed to capture him was one pregnancy. She need not even carry the babe to term: a missed monthly would be enough to coerce him into marriage. 

She would have to try harder.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco Malfoy had begun to regret his bet with Reginald Greengrass approximately two days after Astoria moved into his home. She was nosy, she looked through his private letters, she whinged about the quality of the food and demanded outrageously extravagant multi course dinners daily, even when it was just the two of them dining. She also insisted on eating in the formal dining room, whereas Draco had enjoyed meals in his study or in the breakfast room prior to her arrival. 

The witch might have known how to walk and bat her eyelashes like a woman of the night, but her boldness ended there. She was a disappointing shag, though a willing woman was a willing woman. Draco wasn’t enough of a gentleman to say no when something was so freely given, but it wasn’t worth being tied to for life. Draco maintained a contraceptive spell over his entire home. Perhaps that was excessive, but he did not want to beget any unexpected heirs on the wrong side of the blankets, and he did not want angry husbands or fathers claiming their wives or daughters were defiled under his roof. He’d rather protect the illicit affairs conducted during parties from unintended (or intended as the case may be) consequences than deal with indignant wizards. 

It was quite clear that Astoria was unaware of the charm since Topsy commented on Astoria’s temper the day her courses arrived. Draco would have known anyway. It was the first night in a month that she had let him sleep in peace.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A string ensemble filled the gilded ballroom with a waltz whilst couples spun around the floor.

Draco escaped Astoria’s grasping clutches as she attempted to lead him about his own fete and made his way to the balcony, snatching a saucer of champagne from a passing tray as he did so. He slipped silently between the drapes and disappeared from the view of his guests. 

The moon shone brightly, the evening perfectly crisp and smelling of the evergreen bunches hung about the city. The gentle sounds of the fountain, charmed to never freeze, calmed him as he forced himself to relax: unclenching his jaw, releasing his shoulders, rolling his neck.

He went to take a sip of his champagne, but the glass stopped a hair’s breadth from his lips. A laugh carried through the silent night. Sweet, almost musical. He looked towards the fountain to see a young woman walking along the edge, nearly glowing in the moonlight. Her skin was porcelain pale, her dress an ethereal blue that furthered her otherworldly appearance. Even her hair, dark as it was, picked up the light from the flame-lit street lamps and rippled like auburn fire. 

She was enchanting. Captivating. Entrancing.

No woman in the world existed outside of this elfin creature. No human, magical nor muggle, could hold a candle to her. She was exquisite. 

So ensnared was he by her beauty that he had not noticed the wizard behind her, helping her keep her balance on the edge of the fountain. Not that she needed help. She was fearless, skipping around the fountain’s icy water. 

Draco apparated to his front steps.

CRACK

The sound of apparition surprised her and she tottered for a moment. 

CRACK

Draco apparated to her side and swept her away from the chilled depths. He set her on her feet, but did not release her.

They stared at one another, silent, surprised, enamored. 

The dark haired boy cleared his throat.

“My apologies, Lord Malfoy. She shouldn’t have been up there - “

“No,” his voice terse, “she should not have.”

“She’s something of a free spirit and she’s never been to town and I just wanted her to enjoy herself and after the festival moved into the manor I thought - “

“You thought you’d endanger her by allowing her to dance along the edge of death?”

For the first time, Draco looked at the boy, who he reassessed and realized was likely his own age. His eyes turned flinty.

“She has a voice and autonomy and can explain her actions herself.”

His gaze snapped back to hers.

“Will you please unhand me?”

Draco dropped his hands slowly, not wanting to lose contact, and slowly backed away.

“Now then, first and foremost,” she curtsied, “I am Hermione Granger.”

Draco took her hand and kissed her knuckles, lingering longer than common courtesy allowed. However, if her plebeian curtsy was anything to go by, she didn’t know much about societal norms in the ton. 

“Draco Malfoy,” he practically purred.

“Harry Potter,” Harry stuck out his hand.

“Pleasure,” Draco said with a scowl, ignoring the out thrust hand. 

“I would like to get to know you better, Miss Granger. It is Miss, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she said.

“May I call upon you?”

“If you can find the cottage.” Her eyes sparked. Perhaps she knew a little about society.

“I am certain I am capable.”

“But would you be willing to call upon the cottage of a simple gnomer and his family?”

A gnomer? But no. This couldn’t be the daughter of the Granger that Nott was always telling him to hire. Her dress alone suggested at least middle class, thought now that he looked closely, the style was a touch rustic. No matter, his family’s class was enough to balance her low birth. Her undeniable beauty would smooth her way into society, with the men at least. The women might be nasty out of jealousy, but this kitten clearly had claws and was ready to stand up for herself. Perhaps not a characteristic he normally would have looked for in a wife, but it suited her. 

“I would call upon the tent of a beggar if I knew that you resided there.”

She raised a single eyebrow.

Harry Potter did his best impression of a bug-eyed pug dog. 

“Then I shall see you on the morrow. Come, Harry.”

The dark haired man followed her like an obedient puppy and she kept her back erect as she walked away from him. They kept up that facade for half a block before they bent their heads towards one another and began to gossip like a pair of little old witches.

Draco rolled his eyes at the Potter boy’s behavior, but his eyes remained glued to the gentle sway of her hips. No artifice there, no practiced swing, just natural womanly grace.

Returning to his party, Draco snagged a glass of port and went to find Reginald Greengrass.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“You want to… return her?”

Reginald Greengrass was sputtering, eyes unfocused thanks to his umpteenth glass of Ogden’s Finest. 

“Consider your debt paid, Reggie. She can go home.”

“But, she’s ruined! You ruined her!”

“I never approached your daughter, never visited her bedroom. If your daughter is ruined, it was not initiated by me.”

Reginald gaped. 

“So, she’s still chaste?”

“As I said, I did not approach your daughter, nor ask for favors.”

“But, she still lived with you, unchaperoned.”

“And who knows of that arrangement beside you, my, your wife, and your daughters?”

“Not a soul,” Reginald said.

“Then who would know?”

Reginald muttered his thanks and shuffled away to find his wife. Draco snatched another glass of champagne from a tray and let his mind wander back towards the woman who had taken over his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to JK Rowling, all written content belongs to me. Written for the Mourning Madam's Dramione Fairy Tale Fest (my first fest ever!)
> 
> This story is based on the Russian Fairy Tale, The Snow Maiden.


End file.
